in daylights, in sunsets (how about love?)
by gustin puckerman
Summary: From friends to lovers to heartbreaks, from high schools to zombies to neighbours, there's nothing they haven't gone through. ― Jack/Merida, in every sense. On-going collection of written-out prompts and one-shots I've gotten from Tumblr.
1. nobody catches rotten weasleys

**DISCLAIMER**: Everything belongs to their rightful owner(s).**  
NOTE**: ALL OF THIS HAS BEEN POSTED ON MY TUMBLR (under the name of _puckering-gustin_). With that said, I'm re-posting it again on FFNET because I figured why not place it all together in a one giant collection? Some of you who don't (or aren't active) on Tumblr can check it out, and those of you who does can keep up on whatever piece I've written that you might've missed. I'm mainly re-posting all of the _prompts_, so.

**ALSO**: not _all_ prompts are connected. Each will stand as one-shot(s), unless I say otherwise.

Here you go. Enjoy.

* * *

**Posted on**: Mar 15  
**mindyla asked**: Elsaxhans and jarida in the same fic please? (I actually haven't seen frozen yet but I think the two would make an interesting couple considering their stories) a modern fanfic? Or a hogwarts based?  
**Featuring**: Pairing Elsa/Hans from _Frozen_, and heavily mentioned-Jack/Elsa.

* * *

_It's easy to fall in love,_  
_ But it's so hard to break somebody's heart_  
_ What seemed like a good idea has turned into a battlefield_

- "Battlefield", Lea Michele

It started with a fight, and Merida still could feel the tingling sensation over the knuckles which she used to punch Frost with. She didn't know who started it, the fight ― all that she could recall was her own body pushing against the crowd, hurrying herself to check what was happening, until she stumbled onto the sight of a fallen Hans, hands clutching his own face, and Frost, one hand curled by his side, fresh bruises welling up on his _own_ knuckles, a bloody trail went down his nose.

Merida _acted_. She saw her most doomed and best friend on the floor, with the most pompous, "star child" prick over him ― she stepped in and punched him. She punched Frost.

And then just when she got the pale boy to back off, she was pushed by ― the most unexpected ― Elsa Arendelle. _Hard_. Merida could still felt her ribs shook from the impact of her back against the lockers when she did, and the way her knees met the floor as she collapsed against the earth, grunting, muttering out a curse under her breath.

Everything started to crash and burn when the four of them found themselves in the Principal office, and expulsion threatened over Hans' head, while the others might be facing suspension and a permanent smudge over their records even though summer was just a week away. Until, of course, the Principal offered them an alternative. Be a camp counsellors for four weeks at a camp their school owned as "community service" and everything will be forgotten.

Merida could still remember the way her tongue curled inside of her mouth as she snapped her attention at Hans, _blaming him for all of this_. She was supposed to spend the summer with Angus and archery ― not setting herself up to be a counsellor for a bunch of pre-teens at a summer camp. But there she was. Clad in the counsellor's uniform, a fresh mosquito bite on her arm and her skin burning along with her freckles from all-day playing under the sun.

Merida snuggled closer to the fire.

It was supposed to be a quick, miserable four weeks with kids, a few other _volunteered_ counsellors, Hans and (as Hans liked to call them) the _Silver Couple_: Jack Frost and Elsa Arendelle. And she and Hans were supposed to keep everything all to themselves, just like they've always been, from the beginning ― just the two of them, with a rage against the world splattered against one another, and hateful comments bubbling at the back of their throats. Because wasn't that who they were? _The outcast_? The "Broken Prince" and the "Princess with Anger Management Issue"?

But of course, something decided that it wasn't enough, and then, _she_ and Rapunzel, the counsellors for Girl's Cabin 2D were paired up with Hiccup and _Frost_, the counsellors for Boy's Cabin 1C, up against the other four groups ― each a combination of two cabins, one from the girl's cabin and the other from a boy's. And just like that, she was separated from Hans, and he from her ― she still remember the glare he gave when he forced himself to stride over to pair up with the rest of the counsellors to his group: Kristoff, Anna and _Elsa_.

Everything kind of crumbled horribly after that.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Merida let her eyes glanced up at the new figure entering the small cabin ― they called it _the store_, because that's where extra logs, or chairs or any other possible things are stored at ― and broke a forced, small smile. "Hans."

"Running away?"

"Just escapin' for a while." She decided to reply back, holding in a sigh at the end of her sentences, her eyes blinked back at the small fire lighting up in the old, unused fireplace. For a summer night, it was surprisingly cold. "What are _ye_ doin' here?"

He snorted first, his emerald eyes finding itself on the fire too and Merida knew they both found comfort from this. Heat had always been friendlier than the cold, she imagined he'd rephrased it. Hans eventually gritted his teeth, and there's something like guilt deepening in the way he appeared, "I'm losing my mind."

"Fallin' in love?"

"Just falling."

"You like her," she pointed out the obvious, and felt her chest contracted at the realisation _that he wasn't the only one_. A pair of blue eyes flashed across her vision, and Merida struggled to catch her breath, just for a second. His laughter still rung like a cursed echo in her ears. The way he held her hand that evening when he taught her to throw pebbles across the lake ― the veins in her fingers which came in contact with his _burned_. "Elsa."

He gave out a small smile at the mention of the name, and though Merida barely noticed it, she saw the sincerity on the small upward tilt to his lips ― but he also looked sad, as though he knew how the story would end, and it's not a happy ending, and he's trying to cope with that. "It is not fun to fall when there is no one to catch you." He said, and then finally lifted his eyes up to her, now feigning a helpless grin. "She's a heavenly distraction."

"We shouldn't have come here, should we?" Merida replied, sadness weighing on her shoulders at their situation.

He hummed, looking back at the fire. "Frost too good for you?"

"Too in love," she responded, chuckling out humourlessly, the bile at the back of her throat thickened; the night when he confessed his feelings for the beautiful Snow Queen to her still embed, chained, _sewn_ to her memory strip like a tattoo she can't scratch off. The way he looked at the platinum blonde and touched her and called out her name ― Merida wasn't the girl he was talking about. She could _never_ be the girl he was talking about. She was going to be the girl who he called "spoiled" at the beginning of the camp when Rapunzel urged them to work together for their group, the girl who pushed him in the lake when the four of them hung out the first night of the second week, the one he hugged right after just so he wasn't the only one who's going to die _freezing_. She was going to be the girl who he pulled pranks on with some of the kids, and the girl who he chased until they were on top of that hill, the first people there, to catch the amazing scenery.

She was the girl who punched him a week before school ended.

"You're right," Hans finally voiced out, after a minute of silence, his voice deep and his stare sharpened, but not at her. "We shouldn't have come here."

Merida stared up at her best friend ― her _only_ friend perhaps, before this summer ― and for that one moment, caught herself wishing for everything to happen differently. She saw the way Hans looked at Elsa; while Jack looked, Hans stared. While Jack's face brightened up, Hans' softened. While Jack would be happy around her, Hans' whole aura would change ― he will be kinder, more careful, less tensed than he already was. He was like a completely different guy all entirely.

And it was ripped apart simply by the fact that he can't have her. All because of a stupid fight that _he_ probably started.

If they were in any other kind of situation, Merida won't hesitate to shove him and told him to "deal with it" since he was the culprit behind this whole mess, but this was more than _just_ a hot mess. They were in a war at a battle they were certain they would lose.

Jack and Elsa were meant to be together.

This wasn't her story, or Hans'. They weren't going to guarantee good ending, they never were. They were always given the worst, and had to learn how to survive it. That was what kept her and Hans friends together for so long, wasn't it? Because he knew how to push himself alive for another day, and she had a lot to learn. And they were strong together ― like a force nobody really knew how to handle, what to predict. They were near unstoppable. And to think all of that tough effort faded away just because they _fell_.

No, she decided. Falling was one thing.

Not having anyone catching at the end of their fall was another.

* * *

**End Note #1**: This was originally a multi-chap idea but I know I could never get around to write it due to my limited free schedule and ultimate laziness, so I present to you a short one-shot. Maybe I'll write the whole fiction one day. Who knows? Plus, I love the probability of Hans/Merida friendship! Hans' just so bitter, and Merida's just so loud. BroTP and having them both falling for jack/elsa respectively? I think HELL YEAH.


	2. these heartbreaks are folded

**DISCLAIMER**: Everything belongs to their rightful owner(s).**  
NOTE**: Noting back that this has been posted on my tumblr (under the name _puckering-gustin_). With that said, I'm re-posting it again on FFNET because I figured why not place it all together in a one giant collection? Some of you who don't (or aren't active) on Tumblr can check it out, and those of you who does can keep up on whatever piece I've written that you might've missed. I'm mainly re-posting all of the _prompts_, so.  
**NOTE #2**: I'm sorry that the first few prompts/one-shots are going to be angsty. I _know_. I suck.

**ALSO**: not _all_ prompts are connected. Each will stand as one-shot(s), unless I say otherwise.

Here you go. Enjoy.

* * *

**Posted on**: Mar 18  
**anonymous asked**: Can we have a JEALOUS Jack in a oneshot of yours? To get a taste of Merida's pain? Like she's getting married?

* * *

"We can't keep doin' this, Jack."

She told, like a cruel whisper setting poison to his skin, and he sat there, and looked over to her, and he wondered momentarily how he's going to remember this moment forever. And he wished she was smiling, and this heart of his didn't weigh as much, and that she'd extended those fingers into his, and she'll tug on it, and she'll kiss him, his shoulder and murmured how she liked the mornings. She usually didn't.

She wasn't stupid, were she? He should have known.

Taking a road-trip, the four of them ― Hiccup and Rapunzel still sleeping at the backseats ― just a _month_ before she was going to get married? He thought he could change her mind. _She weren't meant to get married_. He really thought he could. _At least, not to that guy_. Weren't she always the one who was opposed to all of the idea of marriage? He meant, what happened to _that?_ She wasn't really getting married.

Was she?

The foreign ring enveloped her fourth finger like a holy sight unworthy for a sinner's eyes such as he was to look upon. But there it was ― clear, and bright and _there_ ― and she's cradling it, playing with it, and if he didn't know her as he did, he'd thought she'd be having second thoughts of this. But it wasn't her engagement she was worried about ― it was the fact that every time she said the other guy's name, Jack's felt like somebody light his throat on fire. That every time she mentioned him, he'd felt like violence was the only option left on the table. That every time he was reminded she wasn't _single_, he'd probably lost half of his damn mind.

Jack drove a little faster.

"Ye haven't called Elsa for a long time, haven't ya?" She looked at him, all glassy-eyed, sad smiles and freckles worn and grey. He pretended his chest didn't contract over and his heart clenched twistingly. "I'm sure she missed ye, Jack."

"She'll be okay," he breathed out, forced ― and for that quick, cutting second, he released his tight grip on the steering wheel, noticing how white his knuckles have gotten.

"I need to get back, Jack. Ye know it." She said, carefully and gently, as though each word said were fragile gold handled with shaky hands ― and he resisted the urge to voice out how she's getting _soft_. Why would she do that, anyway? Why weren't she fighting along with him?

She always fought.

"They're changing you, Merida." He finally blurted it out, meeting her gaze, grip's tighter on the steering wheel. He returned his eyes on the road and pretended he didn't see the sympathy colouring her blue eyes, painting over her expression. "Can't you see that? _This whole thing?_ You're not _you_."

"Jack."

"No. Have you looked at yourself lately? You've changed. This― this― _marriage_, this _engagement_― it changes you. I mean, I can't let that happen. You're one of my―"

"Jack."

"This is stupid. You're not getting married." He snorted emptily, turning on one lane.

"I am, Jack." She cuts him off, her tone definite, and he heard the familiar roar of a rebel in her sentences, and it impaled on his chest like a dagger cutting through the skin of his chest, sharp and painful. "I'm sorry, but I am."

"No, you're not―"

"Listen to me. I'm _not_ playin' this game with ye. I know ye, Jack. More than I probably should ― but I do. I'm sorry if the news didn't fit ye well, but this _is_ happening. I _am_ gettin' married. With, or without yer approval. D'ya hear me?"

"Well, what if I told you I love you? Would you still want to get married to him?"

He heard the way she caught her breath, and her hesitation lingered before: "No, Jack, yer―"

"I love you, Merida. There, I say it. I love you. I really do." He told, glancing sideways to look at her. "I don't want you to marry him. Don't marry him, Merida."

She let out a shaky breath and ducked her head lower, and Jack nearly stopped, furrowing his brows until ― "You don't love me. Ye never have." She looked up to him then, a rueful smile plastered over her lips, the corner of her eyes shone with a pearl of a tear. "_I_ don't love you, Jack."

He swore he saw dark spots circle around in his vision. He gritted his teeth.

"I used to. A _lot_. Ye've worn ma love out, Jack. It's all yer fault. I don't know how to do that anymore. Lovin' ye without hurtin' maself." She paused, and sniffled. "So, I stopped. It wasn't easy and it took me months, but when I did ― when I _did_ get over ye ― I was happy. I _am_ happy. I can't go back to those months of watchin' you kissin' another lass and pickin' up yer mess. I'm done." She told, and wiped a fallen tear. "I don't love ye, Jack."

And she didn't.

…

Spring never really came, did it? He thought not.


	3. this request is sinking

**DISCLAIMER**: Everything belongs to their rightful owner(s).**  
NOTE**: Noting back that this has been posted on my tumblr (under the name _puckering-gustin_). With that said, I'm re-posting it again on FFNET because I figured why not place it all together in a one giant collection? Some of you who don't (or aren't active) on Tumblr can check it out, and those of you who does can keep up on whatever piece I've written that you might've missed. I'm mainly re-posting all of the _prompts_, so.  
**NOTE #2**: I'm sorry that the first few prompts/one-shots are going to be angsty. I _know_. I suck.

**ALSO**: not _all_ prompts are connected. Each will stand as one-shot(s), unless I say otherwise.

Here you go. Enjoy.

* * *

**Posted on**: Mar 19  
**Plot**: **t**: Merida's room was the only room he ever entered without having to feel like he's rushing out the next morning. And maybe, he didn't have to.

* * *

"Stay," she said, eyes half-open, glassy but _blue_ all the same, and Jack swore his breath caught in his throat. Under the blanket of the night, her slightly flushed cheeks weren't noticeable, but her freckles stood where her knuckles laid and her fingers intertwined with his pale ones ― she wasn't tugging on his hand, but she wasn't letting it go either.

He watched her.

"You're drunk," he noted dumbly, pointing it out ― because wasn't she? That was why he was here, tucking her in the familiar bed ― and he'd been here, hadn't he? In fact, hers was the only room he entered and actually slept. Just _slept_. Like that. The first time was because she dragged him to watch _Captain America_ online (she was the biggest fan of Chris Evans, like ever) and he fell asleep first, and he was quite surprised to find out he wasn't kicked out immediately after that.

In fact, if he recalled correctly, he woke up the next morning with her cheeks on his biceps and her laptop stored by the bedside table, and she looked calm that morning. Younger. He also remembered sneaking quietly as to not to disturb her, because he knew better.

The second time he slept in here because he was _so_ tired that evening and he went straight into her room (he didn't know why) and while he was listening to her ranting about a girl she really disliked at work, he fell asleep. And she let him. He woke up about three in the morning to find her sleeping on the couch, and while trying to wake her up and putting her into her own bed, he fell asleep there too.

The third time he was there was because he caught her awake during a night storm, wrapped up in blankets, shoulders actually shaking, while the lightnings met the earth outside. He came in, and she remembered her snapping her attention at him sharply. He made her some Hot Cocoa, talked about his sister and the next thing he knew ― she was sound asleep. He couldn't reason that time on why hadn't he just walked away, on why he just decided he'd sleep there.

But when he woke up the next morning, he was almost shock to realise that she didn't snap his neck off when her sleepy eyes met his. She just grumbled out something about how he hogged most of the bed, pressed her face onto the pillow and reminded him that he had work to attend to. He was tempted to reach out and brushed off her hair, but he kept his fingers all to himself and kept his distance.

The fourth time it happened was because he had a bad day, and she just _accepted_ his presence there. She asked him about what was wrong, but he was already drifting when she spoke, and he woke up the next morning with a hot breakfast and friends by the table.

The sixth accidental time he found himself waking up in her room, she was still asleep, and she was facing him ― and he counted her freckles and she threw him a pillow when he teasingly told her she snored (which she _didn't_. Not really). The seventh time he wounded there, he slept till afternoon until she had to shake him awake because someone was coming over, and he needed to look "presentable".

But during all those moments, they never really establish anything between them. Merida and him. But it was only because… Well, because Jack was Jack. He and committed relationship weren't in the best of terms, and Merida was― she was someone he knew for quite a while now. And of course he knew about her feelings for him, and maybe it was wrong for him on his part to still "lead her on", but… Jack sighed.

He didn't want her to let go.

"I'm not that drunk," she murmured, and let him go anyway ― her hands clutching onto one pillow while she buried her face into it, mumbling out. "I can still see ye," she whispered, now pressing the side of her cheek against the fabric, her shoulders dropped, and her eyes content, looking at him.

He snorted out a chuckle and climbed on the bed, one knee pressing onto the mattress as his fingers stretched out, up to her wild mane of hair. "You can, can't you?" He whispered back, keeping a smile. He thought, if someone was offering, he'd have this moment. And he'll keep it, if he could. "God, you're a perfect mess."

"Perfect?" she snorted, then kind of slurred; she was looking at him in the way that suggested her vision wasn't really clear, but then she _smiled_, like she knew he was there, and she didn't entirely hate that fact. "Stay, Jack."

"Stay?" _Do you really want me to?_

She gave him a hopeful smile, and he thought about how they both are holding their breath. She pressed her cheek further against the pillow ― her _favourite_ pillow, he noticed ― and nodded. "Ay. Why not?"

And then, because she was a little tipsy, she might be giggling and her face was a little pink and she said, "Tell me somethin' I don't know, Jack."

He pondered over this, and came closer ― because at this point of the conversation, it seemed as though she's whispering everything out; one secret after another, like a coloured whisper you'll get once in a blue moon. "Tell you what?" He said under his breath, looking at her closely. "What do you wanna know?"

"Anythin'." She told back, a hush.

"Well," he stared at her, for a very long while ― a century, perhaps ― and sighed, before he smiled again. "I don't know much," he started, careful, gentle and slow. He met her eyes, "But I know you have 84 freckles scattered all over your cheeks, up to your nose. You have a scar behind your elbow when you fell at age eight because you lost your balance while you were trying to shoot. You broke your leg when you were eleven because you lost your footing while you're climbing up a tree. You remember that because you said it was the most infuriating moments you had with your mother pre-teen, but she never failed to make you your favourite porridge anyway, even though she was still nursing your one-year-old brothers."

He paused, but only briefly. "I never told anyone this, but I love it when you scrunch up your nose like _this_," he demonstrated it, and failed miserably, causing both of them to chock out pathetic chuckles. Her eyes twinkle when he caught it again. "I think it's cute, and you don't do it to just _anyone_ ― so when you did it to me… I like it. You hate literature and staying indoors because it reminded you of all those years stuck inside of your house before you made amends with your mother. You don't like Skittles much, but you love M&Ms, and you always stole mine ― so I always bought extra."

He grinned at this, and she chuckled too. He held his breath again, and his smile faltered, just slightly. "You're very opinionated, and you never back out from a fight, and you're _so_ stubborn, but also brave. You laugh at the silliest things, but I love it when you do. It's hard for you to cry, but you do that too ― and I hate when I'm the reason behind it."

He didn't realise her hands slipping into his until she's squeezed it, and when he looked up, she was wearing a smile. A rueful one, but it's genuine and there's a linger of happiness there, he's sure. "You never like the storms, but you love the mornings, unless you drank too much the night before. You don't listen to music much, but you listen to _Daughtry_ sometimes, and you never admit it, but you love it when your family calls you from Scotland."

He ran his thumb over her knuckles now, suddenly his stomach clenching when a sudden, harsh realisation finally dawned over him. _He wanted her_.

He wanted to _stay_.

"I admit, I'm probably the most ignorant person you'll ever meet, and there's a lot of things I don't know." He drew a shaky breath in, daring himself to meet her hazy gaze. "But I know I want you, Merida, and yeah, I'm a little scared, but this thing has been eating me every time I realised that when I wake up in this bed, you're still _not with me_. I want you Merida. And if I were to be honest with you, these are the only things I'm absolutely sure of."

He probably should've expected it when she rolled her eyes and drawled, "Ye daft prick."

He chuckled then, ducking his head slightly, his thumb still counting the distance between the mountains of her knuckles, and the hollow parts in between. She looked at him, and slowly, repeated: "Stay, Jack."

"Okay," he whispered back, breathing a smile. "Okay."

So, he did.

…

The next morning, the first thing he did was captured her lips in his and tackled her to the bed until he had her admitted that he was her boyfriend. And when her fingers found his ribs and stayed there, with her lips touching his jaw, and his mouth on her pulse ― he knew there were going to be more things added into the things he's absolutely sure of. And being here, with her, was _definitely_ one of them.


End file.
